


Domesticity

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Polyamorous Relationship, Kissing, M/M, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-17 21:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: Lately, with Jensen, Misha savors the quiet moments.A story of the last season of filming Supernatural, a shared condo, uncertain future, and being desperately in love with a best friend.





	Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> My emotions got a hold of me. Enjoy! 
> 
> As always I can be found on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/anastiels):)

Lately, with Jensen, Misha savors the quiet moments.

Those bright flashes of smiles meant just for Misha sent in the expanse of space between them on set. Misha gets Jensen to laugh more than usual on purpose, cataloguing the curve of his mouth when he giggles, the precise placement of the freckles on his bottom lip, and the crinkles around his eyes that come out of hiding whenever he grins too much.

Back at his second home, Jensen’s condo, after a long twelve hour day, he’s acutely overwhelmed with the need to remember this, them as they are right now. The distance looms in the future and change is inevitable, he’s not sure what that means, but that they need to make the most of the time they have left. 

Today, like most days, Jensen is curled up against Misha’s shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around Misha’s middle, looking almost childlike-with his feet tucked up under his thighs. He’s wearing one of Misha’s sweaters, a soft green one Misha has had for about ten years. It’s too big on him, even more so than it is on Misha, hanging down to his upper thighs over his grey sweatpants. He looks comfortable and cuddly -- so Misha does what any sensible man would do -- wrap his arm around Jensen’s shoulder, pulling him close and holding him. It had been a long day, multiple shots needing to be redone because they kept fucking up and Jared kept making _ Misha _ fuck up. Needless to say, a little R & R in the form of a crackling fireplace, the dim chatter of Chopped in the background, and a few hours wrapped up with Jensen was a necessity. 

Misha is content in the near silence, the room sounds familiar and routine to him after this many years of staying with Jensen. It truly is another home to him in a way he hasn’t yet found the words to express. Maybe one day, but for now he’ll bask in the warmth and overpowering love he feels simply from being in Jensen’s presence.

“Hey Mish,” Jensen mumbles, against Misha’s shoulder. He smacks his mouth together and Misha tilts his head down to look at him. 

“You want your tea? You haven’t had any yet tonight.”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” Misha states, making his point by kissing the top of Jensen’s forehead.

“Hmm. I can get it,” Jensen offers, arching his neck to peer up at Misha. 

Misha chuckles, squeezing Jensen’s shoulder with his hand. “You don’t have to.”

“I’ll get it,” Jensen insists. “You gotta rest your hip.”

He squeezes Misha’s side once, and then he’s up on his feet, grunting when he stands up to full height, no doubt at his aching joints. 

“Green or jasmine?”Jensen asks, lazily stroking a hand through Misha’s hair. 

Misha smiles at his fussing, loving him a little bit more for it. 

“Surprise me.”

“Kay.” 

Jensen grins, blinking sleepily at him, confirming Misha’s earlier suspicion that he had taken a brief nap right after they sat down. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Jensen says. He leans down and presses a chaste kiss against Misha’s mouth. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and playfully slaps at Misha’s thigh as he bypasses him on the way into the kitchen. Misha watches him go, body silhouetted in the twinkling lights of the city outside the windows. He adjusts his position on the couch, resting his back against the arm rest, and turning to watch Jensen and the expanse of the city skyline behind him. Misha rests his feet up on the couch cushions, taking up the remainder of the sitting space purposefully as a ploy to get Jensen to sit in his lap when he comes back. They were close before, but closer is _ always _ better. 

A quiet clattering fills the room as Jensen fiddles with the tea kettle, gets out Misha’s special mug and one of his many teas. Misha has a specific drawer in Jensen’s kitchen, next to the coffee pot and tea kettle, filled with an array of various teas for evenings and mornings when he stays over. Jensen buys more tea when he gets low and lets Misha keep a few shirts, pants, and one of his leather jackets in his closet for when Misha forgets to bring proper clothing in his rush to get out of the house. It happens more often than he’d like to admit, but Jensen knows and silently over the years has made a space for Misha in his little home away from home. It’s Jensen’s, but over time it has become _ theirs _. Misha is going to miss it next year, all its intricacies, and the view -- he’s not sure what they’re going to do after the show ends, but they’ll make it work. They always do.

The high pitched whistle of the tea kettle fills the room, breaking Misha out of his own thoughts and he focuses back on Jensen. Jensen works methodically as he pours the tea, with the barest hint of a smile twitching on his lips, and tips the perfect amount of sugar into Misha’s tea. The sight of him so happy and domestic makes Misha’s heart do a flip-flop in his chest. It has been years and that feeling never goes away. 

“What time is call tomorrow?” Misha asks, as Jensen pads back over to him, mug clutched in his hand.

Jensen sighs, pauses mid-step and scrunches his nose while he thinks. “Eight I think, sometime around then. Should probably check on that.”

“Later, come over here.”

Jensen does. He hands Misha the mug, bending down to accompany the transfer with a kiss. “Hope it’s okay.”

“You haven’t fucked up yet.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Jensen glances at Misha’s feet where they’re taking up the rest of the couch and raises an eyebrow. 

Misha pats his thigh as an answer. Jensen sighs obnoxiously, as if this proposition is the most annoying thing, and then he’s smirking and eagerly settling down into the couch space between Misha’s legs. After taking a sip of his tea, Misha sets it down on the coaster on top of the coffee table and slips his arms around Jensen’s middle, pulling him back so he’s snug against Misha’s chest. He’s warm, soft, and Misha breathes him in. The sense of peace that falls over him in that moment is indescribable. He presses a kiss on the back of Jensen’s neck and relaxes into the couch.

“You like holding me,” Jensen states, a few minutes later. He moves his hands and rests them on Misha’s, tangling their fingers together..

“Don’t I always?”

“Yeah,” Jensen says, all soft, and Misha can hear the smile in his voice even if he can’t see it. 

Misha alternates between sipping at his tea, until it’s finished off and idly toying with the stray threads of Jensen’s sweater. He feels the moment Jensen starts to doze off when his hands go slack over Misha’s. His head lulls to the side, resting on the edge of Misha’s shoulder, lips parted, breath shallower than before. Misha smiles to himself, adjust his position on the couch as carefully as possible so Jensen can lay more back on him. Jensen stirs in his arms, huffing out a breath and tightening his grip where Misha’s arms rest on his waist. Misha’s eyes start to slip shut, sleep coming up on him. He listens to the even in and out of Jensen’s breathing and drifts.

* * *

Misha wakes hours later when Jensen starts stirring in his arms. The television is stuck on the “Are you still watching?” screen of Netflix, Jensen’s entire condo coated in the dim light from the screen. 

“What time is it?” Jensen mumbles. Misha watches him rub at his sleepy eyes, blinking at the contrast of light and dark and yawn wide. 

Misha darts his eyes over to the microwave in the kitchen where 2:05 flashes back at him in neon green. 

“Two,” Misha replies with a chuckle. Jensen groans and Misha’s reaches out to card his fingers through Jensen’s hair.

“Fuck, we’re too old to sleep on the couch,” Jensen bemoans when he tries to sit up a bit and visibly cringes. He moves out of Misha’s arms, still trapped between Misha’s legs but half-turned towards him now. He looks over at Misha, and reaches out a gentle hand to rest it on Misha’s thigh. “How’s your hip, babe?” Jensen asks around a yawn.

“Won’t know until I stand up, I guess I’m stuck here.” Misha shrugs

“Yeah?” Jensen asks, mouth twitching.

“Yep.”

“Hmm.” Jensen scowls and with the way his hair is sticking up on one side combined with his droopy sleep-filled eyes, he looks ten times more adorable than normal. Misha moves his hand to cover Jensen’s where it rests on his thigh and strokes is thumb over the top. Jensen’s worried scowl morphs into a smile. He moves, crawling back over the short distance to Misha and carefully sits right in Misha’s lap, straddling Misha’s hips with his thighs. Slightly stunned but nonetheless quick to get with the program, Misha grabs Jensen’s hips and drags him as close as he can get him. Jensen’s hands cup Misha’s cheeks and he leans in, pressing his forehead against Misha’s and they breathe together, lips barely brushing. 

There’s no heat to this like usual, they’re both too exhausted to take this further, but want to touch for the simplicity in needing to feel each other. Jensen pulls back slightly and they just look at each other. Jensen has a dopey, soft smile on his lips and Misha knows there is a matching one on his own face. The soft glide of Jensen’s thumb along Misha’s jaw makes him all gooey inside, makes him want to take the rest of the week off from filming and stay here together curled up in Jensen’s bed. 

Misha gets his hands where he’s wanted them all evening, sliding them up underneath the hem of Jensen’s sweater. His fingers ghost up over Jensen’s warm skin, stopping only to flick a thumb over one of his nipples, drawing a shuttered breath from Jensen’s lips. It’s enough to push Jensen to act, and he surges downward, capturing Misha’s lips in a slow, wet kiss. 

Jensen kisses him delicately, strokes his thumbs on Misha’s cheeks. Misha’s hands slide back down to Jensen’s hips, fitting there just above his waistband, keeping skin contact. He deepens the kiss, arching up and licking into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen settles in, drops his palms from Misha’s face to clasp his hands behind Misha’s neck. 

They stay there for awhile making out, shrouded in the dark, hands all over each other, sharing breath. Here in the quiet with Jensen’s lips on his, there’s a certain feeling he gets, of being completely happy, in love, and awed in how Jensen loves him. He locks it deep inside his heart for later: for the weeks they’re apart, for when he’s not filming, for next year after all of this is done and the distance between them will grow. 

Jensen pulls back for air a few minutes later, sucking in a stuttered gasp, pressing his forehead against Misha’s. He’s relaxed, gorgeous from this angle the way his eyelashes lay on his cheeks,body warm and pliant beneath Misha’s hands. Misha breathes too, breathes him in and brushes his nose against the tip of Jensen’s. 

“Bedtime?”

“Yeah,” Misha smiles, thinking of falling asleep with Jensen’s legs tangled between his. “Bedtime.”

Jensen climbs off of him, stepping to the side of the couch, and Misha instantly feels the loss of his body, wants it back almost like he needs air. He’ll hold him again, as soon as they get into bed, but his brain needs a reminder of that. Jensen reaches out and takes one of Misha’s hands in his, and helps him to his feet. Misha’s hip does ache the moment he tries to move, a dull ache reverberating down the side of his thigh, and he struggles a bit once he gets to his feet. Jensen holds him up, wraps an easy arm around his waist and waits until Misha is ready to start walking. 

In bed, Jensen slips his arms around Misha’s waist, dragging him backwards until Misha’s back is pressed up against Jensen’s chest. His lips ghost over the back of Misha’s neck, and he giggles, nuzzling into his skin, placing a kiss right onto his neck. 

“Love you,” Jensen whispers. 

A rush of emotion bubbles up in Misha’s chest, threatens to spill over as his eyes well up, despite his reserves. He swallows thick and snuggles back into Jensen’s embrace, resting his palms over Jensen’s forearms where they’re snug on his stomach. 

“Love you too.”


End file.
